


Guardian Angels

by rex_who



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Child!Lock, baby sherlock, but not a religious fic, prayers, sherlock's an atheist, teenage jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3407786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rex_who/pseuds/rex_who
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock was a child, all the boys at school bullied him. A lot. That is, until a teenage boy falls out of a tree and saves him.<br/>Little Sherlock never believed in angels until that day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The angel falls

Sherlock was running as fast as his little legs would carry him. The other boys were running after him, looking for an easy target. He tripped over a tree root. He tried to scramble to his feet, only to have a pair of hands reach down from the tree and lift him up. “Mycroft!” cried Sherlock, glad for his big brother’s protection. “Nope,” came a voice. “Stay here and be quiet.” Sherlock did as he was told out of fear, as a figure dropped out of the tree beside him. The boys that had been chasing Sherlock stopped. “Hey, did you see where our friend went?” they asked the older boy stood at the foot of the tree. “Friend? Is that right?” he said, arms folded across his chest. “Yeah,” replied one of the boys. “He’s a bit taller than me, with dark brown curly hair…”  
“Yeah, I know who you’re on about,” interrupted the older boy. His voice had an Irish lilt to it, Sherlock noticed from his hiding place in the tree. It made him sound sort of menacing. “Have you seen him?” asked another of the boys impatiently. “Before I tell you, let me ask you a question. What kind of friends gang up on one person and chase him through the park?”  
“We were playing, and anyway, it’s none of your business. Where is he?”   
“I’m not going to tell you.” The group of children rolled their eyes. “Whatever. Thanks for nothing, freak,” said one of the boys. The older boy pushed him up against a tree. “What was that?”  
“N-nothing!” stammered the boy. “Put me down!”  
“Quick life lesson: be nice to people or you’ll get beaten up.” Sherlock watched his bullies’ eyes widen in fear as the thought of a taste of their own medicine crossed their minds. “As it happens, I’m not going to beat you up this time, but if you’re mean to that other boy again, I will find you. And I will burn you.” He dropped the boy he was pinning up against the tree, and watched as the group ran off. Sherlock clambered down from the tree. “Thank you,” he said, honestly grateful. “Don’t mention it.” the older boy walked away. “Hey!” yelled Sherlock. He didn’t turn around. Sherlock shrugged and made his way home, grateful he didn’t have to lie about yet another set of bruises to his parents.  
-  
Sherlock knelt by the side of his bed later that night, praying like his mother had taught him to do before he went to sleep. He didn’t really see the point usually, but today he had something to be thankful for. “Bless mummy, and daddy, and Redbeard, and I suppose you should bless Mycroft too. Oh, and thank you for sending a guardian angel to keep me safe today. Amen.” He clambered into bed, tucking himself in. he lay awake, wondering who that boy was.


	2. Meeting with the angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few years later, little Sherlock has grown up into an internationally famous consulting detective. However, he's still the same little boy who prays to his guardian angel when he needs help.

Twenty years later, Sherlock knelt by the side of his bed. Different bed, different house, almost a different man. He hardly ever prayed any more, but when he did, he prayed to his guardian angel. It was almost therapeutic, telling his troubles to a man who couldn’t possibly hear him. He always prayed to his angel before he did anything dangerous. Weirdly enough, a lot of the time Sherlock could have sworn it worked, apart from the fact that it was impossible. He’d been in so many dangerous situations, and for whatever reason, the criminals always let him go when they learnt his name. Sherlock was missing something blindingly obvious, he knew that, but he couldn’t put his finger on what he was missing. So, for now, he kept praying to his angel, knowing that one day, the prayers wouldn’t be enough.  
He knelt by the side of his bed. “Guardian angel, I need you to keep watch when I meet Moriarty in a few hours, and do whatever you need to in order to keep me safe. You haven’t failed yet, and I hope this time is no different. Amen.”  
He got up and wandered through to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. He was glad John wasn’t in. He had needed to pray but only ever did when he was alone. He had made the mistake of telling Mycroft about his protector, and Mycroft had laughed in his face. “Gosh, you’re even stupider than I thought!” he’d laughed. Sherlock winced at the memory, pouring the boiling water from the kettle into a mug. He relaxed on the sofa, preparing himself mentally for the evening’s events. Sherlock realised he knew very little about the man he was going to meet. He knew he had an Irish accent, because the old lady had tried to describe him before he blew her up. It had occurred to him that his angel had an Irish accent, but he dismissed the thought straight away. Angels don’t blow people up. He knew that he had a network of people, but he didn’t know how extensive.  
In a perverse sort of way, Sherlock was actually looking forwards to meeting his nemesis. He was curious to see who had had him dancing all around London, following the most obscure clues.  
He checked his watch. Time to go. He pulled on a jacket and just on a whim, collected a gun from his second drawer, which he slipped into his waistband. Better safe than sorry.  
He went unaccompanied to the pool. He would have liked John to come with him, but John was at his most recent girlfriend’s house. He approached the pool with caution, scanning for any thugs that might be lurking in the shadows. He was slightly surprised to find none. He took a deep breath. Guardian angel… time to go to work.  
He made his way into the pool area, watching as the reflections from the water threw light across the room. “Hello, Sherlock.” Sherlock reached for his gun. “Come out where I can see you.” A laughed echoed through the room. “Alright, but you won’t be needing that.”  
“What?”  
“Your gun, my dear. Throw it into the pool for me.” Sherlock noticed for the first time the red dot on his chest. Sniper. He rolled his eyes and took his gun from his waistband. He walked over to the edge of the pool, and after checking it was the shallow end, dropped his gun. He didn’t really want to have to dive for his gun if he should need it. “Alright. The gun’s in the water. Now come where I can see you.”  
A sharply dressed figure stepped out from the shadows. “Hello, Sherlock. I’ve been dying to see you again.” Sherlock was pulled up short. “Again?” Moriarty put an expression of mock horror on his face. “You don’t know who I am, and you’ve been praying to me for twenty years?” Sherlock simply stared. It couldn’t be… “I’ve been praying to an angel. You are not my angel, not by any means.” He stiffened up as the other man walked towards him. “No, I’m not. I’m your inner demon, come out to play. The Mr Hyde to your Dr Jekyll so to speak. Because, in a way, your experiments bought me to life. You were experimenting with solving crime; I gave you crimes to solve.” Sherlock froze. It was true. His mind palace was throwing all the facts he knew about his guardian angel up at him, and they all matched the man now stood directly in front of him. He even looked similar. The same brown slicked back hair, the same chocolate brown eyes, even the same sort of build. “Not… possible…” Moriarty giggled. “You’ve said it yourself, Sherlock. Once you eliminate the impossible, what’s left, no matter how improbable…”  
“Must be the answer,” finished Sherlock. His mind was still reeling from shock. He found himself without the ability to say anything. “Nothing to say, my dear?”  
“Thank you,” stuttered Sherlock, eventually, throwing Moriarty off guard. “What?”  
“Thank you.” This time it was more of a statement. “You stopped the bullies, forever. I didn’t have a single problem with bullies throughout the rest of school life.” Moriarty grinned. “You’re very welcome. I believe that means you owe me one.” Sherlock kept himself deliberately calm. “What?”  
“You don’t get something for nothing, Sherlock, that’s not how it works round here. But, that can wait for another time. For now, I have someone I’d like you to say hello to…”  
“John!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> By my standards, this one was pretty short, and the idea came to me at the train station after I almost fell through the gap between the train and the platform, and a very nice gentleman caught me.  
> Inspiration comes in many forms, even in the form of a sharply dressed man who almost spills his coffee to save you from a broken ankle :)

**Author's Note:**

> Who can see where this is going?


End file.
